'There can't possibly be any proof, not now,' Howden said softly. The welcoming group waited as he spoke earnestly to Cawston. 'I believe it's a calculated act of provocation and we should resist any temptation to retaliate. I intend to urge that on the White House because we still need time – as much as we can get.'

'I agree,' Cawston said quietly.

'I've ruled against any statement or protest ourselves,' the Prime Minister said, 'and you must understand there's to be none unless Arthur and I decide in Washington, and in that case it'll be from there. Is that clear?'

'Quite clear,' Cawston said. 'Frankly I'm glad it's you and Arthur, and not me.'

They returned to the waiting group and James Howden began to shake hands. At the same time the other three cabinet members who would accompany him on the flight – Arthur Lexington, Adrian Nesbitson, and Styles Bracken of Trade and Commerce – fell in behind.

Adrian Nesbitson looked a good deal healthier, Howden thought, than the last time they had met. The old warrior, pink cheeked and tightly cocooned in woollen scarf, fur hat, and heavy overcoat, had a touch of his parade-ground manner and was obviously enjoying the occasion, as he did all ceremonial. They must talk during the flight, Howden realized there had been no opportunity since the Defence Committee meeting and it was essential, somehow, to bring the old man into line. Even though Nesbitson would not participate directly in the Presidential talks, there must be no apparent dissension within the Canadian group.

Behind Nesbitson, Arthur Lexington wore the casual air becoming an External Affairs Minister to whom travel anywhere in the world was routine business. Seemingly unbothered by the cold, he had on a soft felt hat and light topcoat, his customary bow tie visible beneath. Bracken, the Trade and Commerce Minister, a wealthy westerner who had joined the Cabinet only a few months earlier, was being taken along- for appearance's sake, since trade was supposed to be the main topic in the Washington talks.

Harvey Warrender was in the cabinet line-up. 'A profitable -journey.' His manner was carefully correct, containing no hint of their previous clash. He added, 'And you too, Margaret.'

'Thank you,' the Prime Minister answered. His response was notably less courteous than to the others.

Unexpectedly Margaret said, 'Haven't you a Latin tag for us, Harvey?'

Warrender's eyes flickered between the two. 'Sometimes I have the impression your husband dislikes my little gambits.'

'Never mind that,' Margaret said. 'I think it's rather fun.' -

The Immigration Minister smiled slightly. 'In that. case, may it be true: vectatio, interque, et mutata regio vigorem dant.'

'I dig the vigorem bit,' Stuart Cawston said. 'What's the rest, Harvey?'

'An observation of Seneca,' Warrender responded. 'Voyage, travel, and a change of place impart vigour.'

'I'm quite vigorous, with or without travel,' James Howden declared curtly. The exchange had annoyed him and he took Margaret's arm firmly, steering her towards the US Ambassador who moved forward, doffing his hat. As if instinctively the others held back.

'Angry, this is an unexpected pleasure,' Howden said.

'On the contrary. Prime Minister – my privilege and honour.' The ambassador bowed slightly to Margaret. Phillip Angrove, a grizzled career diplomat with friends in many countries of the world, had a way of making protocol courtesies seem personally meant, as perhaps, at times, they were. We tend too much, Howden thought, to discount everything that is said politely as surface dressing only. He noticed the ambassador was stooped at the shoulders rather more than usual.

Margaret had observed too. 'I hope your arthritis hasn't bothered you again, Mr Angrove.'

'It has, I'm afraid.' A rueful smile. 'The Canadian winter has many delights, Mrs Howden, but also penalties for us arthritics.'

'For heaven's sake don't be polite about our winter!' Margaret exclaimed. 'My husband and I were born here and still dislike it.'

'I hope not entirely.' The ambassador spoke quietly, his seamed face meditative. 'I have often considered, Mrs Howden, that Canadians have much to thank their climate for: stalwart character and hardihood, but with great warmth seldom far away.'

'If true, it's another reason we've so much in common.' James Howden offered his hand. 'You'll be joining us in Washington, I understand.'

The ambassador nodded assent. 'My own flight leaves a few minutes after yours.' As their hands clasped, 'A safe journey, sir, and a return with honour.'

As Howden and Margaret turned away, towards the waiting aircraft, the Press group closed in. There were a dozen reporters from the parliamentary press gallery and wire services, along with a self-important TV interviewer and accompanying film crew. Brian Richardson had stationed himself where he could hear and be seen by Howden, and the Prime Minister gave a grin and friendly nod, to which Richardson responded. The two of them had already discussed press arrangements for the trip and agreed that the principal official statement -though still not revealing the major issues involved – should be made on arrival in Washington. AU the same, Howden knew he must provide something for use by the Ottawa press corps. He spoke briefly, employing some of the regular platitudes concerning Canada-US relations. He then awaited questions.

The first was from the TV interviewer. 'There have been rumours, Mr Prime Minister, that this trip of yours may involve more than just trade talks.'

'Well, that's true,' Howden said with apparent seriousness. 'K there's time the President and I may play a little handball.' There was a ripple of laughter; he had touched the right note, being good-natured without scoring off the interviewer.

'But besides the sporting side, sir' – the TV man smiled dutifully, exposing a double moon of faultless white teeth -'hasn't there been some talk of major military decisions being taken at this time?'

So there had been leakage, after all, though obviously just in a general way. It was not surprising really, Howden thought; he had once heard someone say that when a secret went beyond a single person it was a secret no longer. All the same it was a reminder that vital information could not be stoppered up too long, and after Washington he must act quickly if he hoped to control release of the major news himself.

Now he answered, speaking carefully and remembering that what he said could be quoted later on, 'Naturally the subject of our joint defence will be discussed in Washington, as it always is on these occasions, along with other subjects of mutual concern. But as to decisions, any decisions will, of course, be taken in Ottawa with the full knowledge of Parliament and, if necessary, parliamentary approval.'

There was a small outburst of hand clapping from spectators.

'Can you say, Mr Howden,' the TV interviewer asked, 'whether the recent submarine incident will be discussed and, if so, what the Canadian attitude will be?'

'I am quite sure it will be discussed,' Howden answered, his long, beaked face serious, 'and naturally we share the deep United States concern at the tragic loss of the Defiant and its crew. But beyond that, at present, I have no further statement to make.'

'In that case, sir…' the TV man began, but another reporter cut in impatiently, 'Do you mind if someone else has a turn, chum? Newspapers haven't been abolished yet, you know.'

There was a murmur of assent from others in the press group and James Howden smiled inwardly. He saw the TV interviewer flush, then nod to the camera crew. That particular portion of film, the Prime Minister guessed, would be edited out later.

The interrupter, a brisk, middle-aged journalist named George Haskins who worked for the Winnipeg Free Press, now proclaimed, 'Mr Prime Minister, I'd like to ask a question, not about Washington, but about the Government's stand on this man-without-a-country issue.'